


Ruin

by PeachyRenjun



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Deepthroating, Light BDSM, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation, technically everything here is consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyRenjun/pseuds/PeachyRenjun
Summary: Zhengting is Xukun's and Ziyi's, but they're not his, and he'll be damned if he ever lets them know why he wants this.





	Ruin

“Knees.”

Zhengting drops immediately, biting his lips as he relishes the feeling in his knees when they hit the hardwood floor. He puts his hands behind his back, his fingers twitching against each other as he holds them against his lower back, his weight mostly resting on the front of his feet. He feels just the slightest stretch in his thighs, the pressure in the bones of his feet. He inhales and shifts his weight forward for a few seconds, hoping that it will relieve some of the pressure. Then again, he kind of likes the pressure, likes the way that he’s always just uncomfortable enough to be on edge, even without the eyes watching him.

“Look at me,” Xukun says. His fingers ghost at the edge of Zhengting’s jaw. His touch is gentle, too gentle for what Zhengting wants or needs. Too gentle for what Zhengting expects. They’ve done this too many times for Zhengting to expect Xukun to be gentle. “Look at me, Zhengting.”

Zhengting doesn’t look. He keeps his eyes down, knowing by the way that Xukun’s fingers are curling, drawing back from his skin, that Xukun is finally about to give him what he deserves.

“I told you to look at me, bitch.” Xukun’s fingers grab onto the sides of Zhengting’s chin. He tilts Zhengting’s head, and when Zhengting continues to avert his eyes, focusing them anywhere but on Xukun’s face, Xukun sighs. “You’re only making this worse on yourself, you know.”

Xukun draws the hand on Zhengting’s face back. Zhengting bites his lip in anticipation. Xukun’s hand strikes Zhengting’s cheek open handed, forcing the blood to his face in the pattern of Xukun’s hand, the edges of his palms leaving the deepest colors. It’ll fade by tomorrow though, at least enough to cover with a thin layer of concealer. The corners of Zhengting’s lips curl up. He feels the blood flowing south as he finally meets Xukun’s eyes. 

Xukun is beautiful, and handsome, and in this moment he is Zhengting’s god. Zhengting would follow him anywhere, do anything for him, even if might pretend to protest a little along the way. These are the types of moments where Zhengting is the most honest with himself. No one else watching, just him and Xukun and everything that Zhengting isn’t allowed to say but will express a thousand times with his body.

Xukun’s fingers return to his cheek, softer now. His eyes flicker between Zhengting’s eyes and lips. “Color.”

“Green,” Zhengting breathes out. His lips must be bitten, swollen red by now, even though Xukun’s lips haven’t once touched his tonight. 

Xukun smirks. “What do you think I should do with you tonight? I could leave you here, just the way you are now. On your knees. Ziyi would come in before too long, I’m sure he’d just love to use your lips and throat, wouldn’t he?” A shiver runs down Zhengting’s spine. Xukun may be more dominant, more willing to indulge Zhengting and degrade him, but Ziyi likes to pull his hair, likes to fuck him harder, even if every thrust is punctuated by an apology. Ziyi is more emotional than Xukun, even if he doesn’t look like it. “You’d like that too much though, wouldn’t you? Maybe I should make you work for it; just have you suck me off now, leave you gagged and blindfolded on Ziyi’s bed for him to find. It’s not often we have a day-off, I should let you get your ass ripped up enough you can’t walk tomorrow, shouldn’t I?”

“Please,” Zhengting says. His fingers and toes are beginning to ache and tingle, the blood not having reached them fully for a few minutes now.

“Please what, bitch?”

Zhengting breathes in. “Please let me suck you off, Master. I’ll be a good boy, I’ll let Ziyi do whatever he wants to me.”

Xukun smirks as his hands reach down to undo his belt. He pushes his jeans halfway down his thighs. Zhengting swallows at the sight of Xukun’s cock twitching inside his boxers. 

Xukun looks like he’s about to laugh at Zhengting’s desperation, but he just pushes his boxers down, freeing his cock. Zhengting leans forward, trying to touch the tip with his tongue, but it’s just out of his reach. He knows better than to try to use his hands to pull Xukun closer. Xukun follows through on his threats; he’d probably leave him alone here for hours, and neither of them want that.

“Pathetic, aren’t you?” Xukun wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly. “So fucking desperate just to get a cock in your mouth.” Xukun steps forward, touching the tip of his cock to Zhengting’s slightly-opened lips. “What do you think your fans would think if they saw you like this? The other members? Your precious Yuehua boys?” Zhengting sticks his tongue out to lick at Xukun’s head, and Xukun moans, low and clear, as he slides himself into the warmth of Zhengting’s mouth.

Xukun is heavy on Zhengting’s tongue. He’s long, but not terribly thick, and he’s only halfway in before he hits the back of Zhengting’s throat. Zhengting doesn’t have a gag reflex, not anymore, but the feeling of it still makes him shiver. Xukun likes to go deep, and it’s not long before Xukun is taking a half-step back, his hands on the back of Zhengting’s head forcing him to lean forward and follow. His back is going to hurt tomorrow from the strain of keeping this position, but he already knows he’s going to be hurting tomorrow anyway.

When Xukun has Zhengting’s head at the right angle, he starts to thrust forward again, and Zhengting tries to contract his muscles the right way to allow the head of Xukun’s cock to slip into his throat. “Good boy,” Xukun breathes out, breath coming harder now. Zhengting nearly purrs at the praise, knowing that the vibrations of his throat will be that much stronger around Xukun’s cock.

Xukun begins to pull out and thrust back into his throat more quickly. Zhengting’s cock twitches in his pants. Xukun is so easy to read, everything from his breathing to his speed can tell Zhengting when he’s pleasing him right. As much as Xukun can be a narcissistic bastard--as much as they both like to pretend they aren’t ones--Zhengting likes to please Xukun nearly as much as he likes convincing Xukun to hurt him.

Xukun’s breaths come more quickly, short moans punctuating the exhales. “This is what you were made for, isn’t it?” Zhengting moans as he tilts his eyes up, meeting Xukun’s. “All you’re good for is being used. Ziyi and I’s whore, isn’t that right?” Zhengting moans, and Xukun pushes as far in as he can go, pulling Zhengting’s nose to rest against his hip, as hips stutter and he comes down Zhengting’s throat.

Xukun pulls out with a groan, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. “Color?”

“Green,” Zhengting breathes, his voice coming out rougher, stickier, than he’s used to. Text-to-speech to talk tomorrow it is.

Xukun swallows. “I should get you tied up now, shouldn’t I?” Zhengting nods, back to avoiding eyes. “Stand up and strip.”

Zhengting stands, reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. As he bares the skin of his chest, he only barely resists the urge to grin teasingly at Xukun. This isn’t about him anymore though, not really. This is about preparing him for his other god’s arrival. If he teased Xukun too much, he’d end up back on his knees again. 

After he pushes his boxers down his legs, Xukun takes his arm, pulling him over to sit on Ziyi’s bed. Xukun looks over his body from head to toe. Not like he’s hungry, more like he’s contemplating. “Should I put you on your front or your back?”

“Back,” Zhengting says, immediately, even though he knows he’s not supposed to answer. “Please.”

Xukun’s face hardens, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to hit him for talking out of turn. “Fair enough.”

Xukun pushes him onto his back on the bed, reaching for the cuffs that Xukun keeps in one of Ziyi’s drawers. Xukun pushes Zhengting’s knees back to his chest, pulling Zhengting’s hands to hold his legs back in the position. With a smirk, Xukun ties the cuffs around Zhengting’s wrists to keep him in that position. Zhengting nearly thanks him for it, but then decides that telling Xukun how hard it would be to resist the urge to pull Ziyi closer to him while they’re fucking probably wouldn’t be the best idea. Xukun takes two of his ties from across the room, placing one in Zhengting’s mouth and the other around his eyes, tying both behind his head.

“I’ll go tell Ziyi you’re his for the night,” Xukun says, stepping back. “Then again, I might wait awhile first. Let you get familiar with that position, right?”

Zhengting groans to himself as Xukun leaves the room, shutting the door loudly behind himself. Zhengting may be flexible, but staying like this is going to make his arms go numb, probably his legs too if Ziyi doesn’t come and untie him quickly enough. And the gag in his mouth isn’t the most uncomfortable thing, but Zhengting can only imagine that the taste of Xukun’s ties is going to become more and more disgusting as time goes on, what with that fabric softener he insists on using.

What seems like forever passes, and Zhengting can feel the tingling start in his hands before he hears the sound of the door finally opening. It opens and closes more quietly than it had with Xukun, and Zhengting swears he can hear the hitch in Ziyi’s breath as he walks up to the bed.

Ziyi’s fingers ghost over the back of Zhengting’s thighs, running up and down the length of the skin before they dig in deeper to the muscled skin, pinching and kneading quickly before moving on and repeating the gesture on another patch of skin. Zhengting moans into the gag.

Ziyi retracts his fingers, and Zhengting can hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling, of clothes hitting the floor. Ziyi returns before Zhengting can think too heavily, his weight sinking into the bed and making it dip. His fingers ghost closer to where Zhengting wants them, tracing the circle of Zhengting’s rim without trying to push in.

“How many fingers do you want tonight?” Ziyi asks, his voice less confident than Xukun’s had been. “Show me.” Zhengting hesitates for a second before holding up two fingers on one of his hands. He swears he can hear Ziyi’s breath hitch again. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zhengting nods his head as much as he can, hoping that Ziyi will get the point. He  _ wants  _ it to hurt. He always does, and Ziyi always hesitates to give it to him.

“I’ll take the gag out before I fuck you, alright?” Ziyi says while opening a drawer beside the bed, most likely the same one Xukun had pulled the cuffs from. “That way you can tell me if it’s too much.”

Zhengting thinks about shaking his head, but he knows Ziyi will do it anyway. Ziyi is too damn considerate sometimes. Never in the way Zhengting wants him to be, of course, but that’s just necessity.

A lubed finger prods at Zhengting’s entrance before pushing in gently. It moves in and out a few times, and Zhengting forces himself to relax. The sooner Ziyi is convinced that one finger goes in easily, the sooner he’ll add another one.

Ziyi’s second finger goes in nearly as smoothly as the first one had, and Zhengting hopes that means Ziyi will get to fucking him soon. He hasn’t Ziyi inside him for weeks, and not had him raw for longer than that. He wants Ziyi inside, wants Ziyi to tear him open and use him because these are the only moments when they can be honest with each other. His cock twitches at the thought of finally having him again, spilling precome onto his stomach as Ziyi scissors his fingers inside him.

Ziyi removes his fingers, and Zhengting feels hands pressing his head up, trying to reach for the knot on the gag. When Ziyi finally gets the knot undone--not without accidentally pulling on Zhengting’s hair in the process--he pulls the gag out from Zhengting’s mouth, and if nothing else, Zhengting is glad to breathe completely freely again.

“Color?” Ziyi asks, as the sound of the lube bottle cap flicking open echoes through Zhengting’s ears again.

“Green,” Zhengting says, nearly cringing at the sound of his own voice. It hasn’t gotten any better since Xukun left.

Zhengting feels the press of Ziyi’s cock at his entrance. “Tell me if I need to slow down, alright?” Zhengting rolls his eyes beneath the blindfold, but it’s cut off by Ziyi starting to press in. Two fingers is not nearly enough to properly prepare a hole for Ziyi’s cock. It’s much thicker than Xukun’s, thick enough to make tears prick at the corner of Zhengting’s eyes as Ziyi presses further inside. Xukun wasn’t exagerating earlier when he was talking about Zhengting’s ass getting torn up--Zhengting will be thoroughly impressed with his body if he gets through this without shedding at least a little blood.

Ziyi presses fully inside and then stops. Like he’s waiting. “Keep going,” Zhengting breathes out. “Don’t hold back.”

Permission given, Ziyi begins to thrust, not going terribly fast, but putting enough force behind every thrust to rock Zhengting into the bed and push the top of his head back against the headboard. Damn Xukun for tying him up this close to the headboard.

Ziyi’s cock drags against Zhengting’s prostate on every thrust, the friction nearly driving Zhengting crazy. As if the stretch wasn’t enough to get him off--Zhengting’s mildly convinced that he could’ve come untouched from Ziyi’s girth alone--the friction on his prostate makes Zhengting’s cock leak more and more precome against the skin of his stomach. 

Zhengting can feel Ziyi getting closer--his hips stutter more, his touches on Zhengting’s hips dig deeper into the muscle beneath. “Good boy,” Ziyi breathes, “so fucking good.” His hips stutter again, and Zhengting knows he’s almost there. Zhengting decides to be a little selfish.

“Choke me,” Zhengting says, hoping to whatever deity is listening that Ziyi doesn’t fucking question him this time. “Do it.”

After another stutter and a second of hesitation, Zhengting feels Ziyi’s fingers pressing into the sides of his neck, cutting off the blood flow. His eyes roll back in his head as his muscles contract and he feels Ziyi cum inside him, feels his own balls tightening as his cum hits his stomach and everything fades to white.

 

When Zhengting wakes up, he’s untied, the blindfold taken off. He’s on his side, facing the wall and the blinds drawn across the window. Everything is sore, but that’s okay. That’s how Zhengting wanted it. Wanted to feel Xukun and Ziyi on him for days afterward, so that when he denied himself their touch next time he could pretend to still feel it.

“Did he bleed tonight?” Xukun’s voice echoes across the room, and Zhengting closes his eyes again.

“Just a little,” Ziyi answers. “I cleaned him up after, and not too much more blood leaked out after I cleaned him.”

Xukun sighs. “Let’s hope he’ll be able to dance by the day after tomorrow, yeah?”

“He’ll be alright,” Ziyi reassures, because while he’s so hesitant with Zhengting he’s always so sure with Xukun. “He always is.”

“You’re right.”

Zhengting hears gentle wet sounds after that, the type of sound that only comes from kisses, and not the shy kind. He pretends that the ache in his chest is just soreness, tries to ignore that his lips were bitten red by his own teeth alone. This is what he is allowed. No more.

“I’ll go get Chengcheng and Minghao,” Xukun says after a minute. “They’ll look after him. You get some kind of clothes on him, alright? Even if it’s just a robe or something.”

“Will do,” Ziyi says. The door opens and closes again, and Zhengting feels Ziyi walk towards him again. Ziyi’s hands touch his ankles, and Zhengting allows Ziyi to drag a pair of boxers up his legs. He hopes that he comes off as still asleep, but Ziyi’s touch seems a little too aware, too gentle, for him to think that Zhengting is asleep.

“Up,” Ziyi says, nudging at Zhengting’s shoulder, and when Zhengting opens his eyes, Ziyi doesn’t look surprised at all. Zhengting slowly tries to sit up, even as every muscle in his body groans at him in protest. It hurts to sit up. His rim’s too sore, and the muscles in his legs are worn out from staying in those positions for so long.

The door opens, and Chengcheng and Minghao are standing there, watching him struggle to stand up. Even with all the things that Xukun says to him during their scenes, when he calls him a bitch and a whore and makes Zhengting feel like a wonderful nothing, it’s moments like these that hurt him the most. Chengcheng and Minghao both come to his side, each of them wrapping one of his arms around their shoulders and half-carrying him as they lead him from the room, clad only in his boxers with light bruises on his cheeks, his neck, his thighs, unable to walk more than a few steps on his own. How fucking pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” Zhengting says, when they’ve carried him to his bed and helped to tuck him in as if he were a child that needed caring for.

“You don’t need to--”

“I do,” Zhengting says, interrupting Minghao. He keeps his eyes down, resting on the pillow beside his head. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this. I’m supposed to look out for you, not the other way around.”

Chengcheng takes his hand, meets his eyes for just a second. “They shouldn’t leave you like that.”

“I asked them to do this to me,” Zhengting replies immediately. “Every bruise they left on me was one I asked for. Don’t blame them.”

Chengcheng shakes his head. “Not that. I mean they should be the ones taking care of you right now.”

“Chengcheng, you don’t understand.” Zhengting sighs. “Something like that would be too personal. Xukun and Ziyi have their relationship and doing something that personal would be--it’d be crossing a line. It’s not my place.”

Minghao runs a finger through Zhengting’s hair. “So that would be too personal, but this isn’t?”

Zhengting sighs again, trying to turn away from them again. “It’s hard to explain. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re a little older, alright?”

“I don’t need to be older to know that they’re using you,” Minghao says, almost absentmindedly. Zhengting doesn’t respond.

Eventually, the two younger boys leave him alone, walking away to sit in Minghao’s bed together and watch a movie. Zhengting takes a deep breath as he turns to face the wall. Chengcheng and Minghao mean well, of course, but they’ll never really understand. Because it’s not just that Ziyi and Xukun already have each other, it’s not just that Zhengting thinks they’re two of the most handsome people on earth. It’s that Zhengting loves them both, for more than their looks or their talent or the way they act on camera. It’s that when this is over they’ll be free to love each other--secretly, of course--while Zhengting will be torn away, put into a role that doesn’t involve either of them. It’s because of Chengcheng and Minghao--and Wenjun and Xinchun and Zeren and Quanzhe--that Zhengting  _ can’t _ love Xukun and Ziyi. He loves his little brothers too much to let Xukun and Ziyi ruin him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave kudos/comment if you feel like it. Let me know if you're interested in reading a follow-up to this/this concept with an actual plot.


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